


The Ties That Bind

by greygerbil



Category: Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines (Video Game)
Genre: Blood Drinking, M/M, dubcon due to regnant/ghoul relationship, pre-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 07:57:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21240776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/pseuds/greygerbil
Summary: LaCroix could be a worse boss, Mercurio thinks.





	The Ties That Bind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scorpiod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiod/gifts).

“I trust your dealings with the Nosferatu went as we hoped?”

Mercurio folds his hands behind his back for want of something better to do with them. No matter where LaCroix puts himself behind a desk – and Mercurio has seen him in dozens of offices big and small –, when he stands before it, he always feels like a school boy.

“Well, as good as it gets with them, boss. Tung isn’t really showing his face – I think he’s busy playing both sides with the Voerman sisters, though that’s just gossip. He’s got a new boy, though, called Knox. Reliable. Little overexcited.”

“A threat to the masquerade?”

Mercurio shakes his head.

“Nah, I doubt it. He’s going to talk your ear off about vampires if he can, but he made sure I was who I said I was first. Besides, I haven’t heard that he’s caused trouble yet.”

LaCroix makes a noncommittal sound and though he is still looking at him, Mercurio has a feeling that his attention is already waning. Therese Voerman at least pretends she wants to play ball, which makes Santa Monica less of a threat, and of course it’s smaller and most nights even calm, at least in comparison to Downtown or Hollywood. It’s why a ghoul can be LaCroix’s only significant presence there, whereas he can’t stop meddling in the other parts of his new territory himself.

_He wouldn’t be a bad leader_, Mercurio thinks, _if he weren’t so hasty_. He’s served under a lot worse, anyway, a lot meaner, too, and they hadn’t even had the excuse of being bloodsuckers. Well, LaCroix could be more of a monster and Mercurio’s never been an angel, so this is about what he deserves.

50 years has to be enough to get your foot into most doors in the human world, of course, but Mercurio has been doing this since the seventies, following LaCroix around as he navigates Kindred politics, and by now he gets that most of the successful Camarilla vampires are in it for the long, long haul. He’s overheard vampires calling LaCroix a youngling and upstart despite the fact that he’s seen Waterloo, which is history class for Mercurio.

But then again, what does he know? Mercurio is not the type to go for the top spot. Sometimes, you have to gamble, he supposes. LaCroix has done it several times and it’s worked out so far. Still, when he made his bid for Los Angeles, Mercurio couldn’t help but wonder if he had really jumped the gun with that one. The Anarchs are still all over the place, digging their heels in under LaCroix’s nose and flat-out calling the shots over in Hollywood, the Kuei-Jin have a stranglehold on Chinatown and most Kindred won’t even set foot there, and the Sabbat are crawling in the streets.

“I’ll keep working on it,” Mercurio says when LaCroix doesn’t add anything.

“Yes.” LaCroix lifts his chin. “One more thing: I have been too busy lately to go looking for essentials. I will need your assistance.”

The tone of voice LaCroix uses is that of a highborn man speaking of something they might consider _delicate_, though he betrays little emotion. Now Mercurio doesn’t wonder why the Sheriff, LaCroix’s shadow, isn’t around. He figured he was out on a job, but maybe he’s waiting in an adjacent room for Mercurio to leave. LaCroix doesn’t like drinking in front of people. Mercurio doesn’t know if it’s a Ventrue thing, since after all it can get messy and decidedly uncouth, or just a personal preference.

“Of course, boss,” he says.

LaCroix gets up and Mercurio waits for him to choose a place for them. He swallows as he follows LaCroix to the couch. The perfectly worked cushions – no thread out of place or shadow of a spot – are soft but not yielding. Not the sort of furniture that you could be comfortable on, but Mercurio suspects that is the point. He isn’t well-bred or well-raised, but looking up from below is the best angle to see how those above play their tricks, since you get battered with so many of them. Not that he can be mad at LaCroix for it. Mercurio can’t be seriously mad at him for anything, not even if he tries, not any more than he could fly if he threw himself off a building for motivation. It’s part of this whole deal.

When LaCroix places a hand on his neck, Mercurio feels a shiver work up his spine. He thinks he is LaCroix’s favourite servant, but he’s known enough ghouls to say that they all want to believe that. It doesn’t really matter, anyway, because it’s not like it would change anything.

Mercurio always drinks from LaCroix’s wrist, head bowed, but when LaCroix has need of Mercurio, he goes for the neck – and for Mercurio’s mouth before that, though not to bite, not hard, anyway. Mercurio has asked LaCroix about vampires and sex before. LaCroix says they do not crave it as much as blood, but it’s a welcome distraction at times.

It’s another reason you wouldn’t want the Sheriff hanging around for this.

Mercurio is happy to be a welcome distraction since of course he’s hopelessly in love with LaCroix. Any ghoul who has a flicker of potential to be attracted to their regnant probably is, Mercurio bets. He’s not stupid enough to go asking LaCroix about being his lover, so it’s fine. Sometimes he wonders what he’d think about him if LaCroix was just human. Would he love him? He could have, maybe, though he doubts someone like LaCroix would have wasted his time on Mercurio in life. It wouldn’t be the same as it is now, though. Nothing feels like this.

LaCroix is too busy for distractions these nights, but Mercurio still gets his kiss and LaCroix’s hands on his hips, holding on almost gently as LaCroix sinks his fangs into Mercurio’s flesh. He doesn’t know why he bothers with these niceties. LaCroix is not one for mercy or pity. Of course, knowing that makes Mercurio hope and leaves his heart beating faster, pumping the sweet liquid into LaCroix’s mouth.

By the end, LaCroix lies him down on the sofa like a doll as Mercurio’s head swims and his limbs go slack. LaCroix squeezes his arm before he returns to the desk.

The Sheriff comes back eventually. LaCroix makes calls. Through the cotton that seems stuck in his ears, Mercurio can hardly hear him, but he sees how his face grows tight even as his voice stays level.

Eventually, Mercurio manages to clamber to his feet, dust himself off, as it were, and pull his clothes right. The Kindred blood in him allows him to recover faster, heal the wounds on his neck. He’s the perfect food source.

“I’ll be going, boss,” he says, after he’s waited for him to finish another conversation.

“Yes, by all means,” LaCroix says with a curt nod. “I do still have a lot to do. But you can take a little blood back.”

He extends his wrist to Mercurio after pricking it with his sharp canine tooth. Mercurio already had his dose of blood this month. Maybe LaCroix is nervous – dotting his i’s and crossing his t’s, making sure those loyal stay that way. Mercurio wishes he could say something to reassure him, or to make him back off from L.A. altogether.

LaCroix’s blood tastes better than the finest whiskey and is much headier.

“Lots of dangerous people on the line, I’ll wager,” Mercurio says as he gets back to his feet.

“Not for long. I will not be called up like an office drone any longer,” LaCroix snaps, shoving his mobile phone into the suit of his jacket.

“This city is pretty harsh territory…”

“Yes,” LaCroix answers, staring out over the skyline.

Mercutio gives up his half-hearted attempt. LaCroix has something to prove, so he isn’t going to take his claws out of this one, not until he’s grabbed it by the neck like a kitten and flung it across the room and left it for dead. You have to admire that sort of ambition in a person; Mercurio has to, anyway. He licks the taste of iron off his lips as he turns back to the elevator.


End file.
